Unpredictable
by LucieAmelia
Summary: Everyday is the identical. Wake up. Go to college. Come Home. Sleep. I crave adventure, I'm sick of seeing the same fields everyday. Little do I know that that's all about to change. When I meet Sherlock Holmes, I'm drawn into a world of danger and excitement.


Beep! Beep! Beep!

I groan as I realize I'm waking up, and screw my eyes shut as tight as I can, trying to fight my way back into the dream. But the beeping of the alarm doesn't stop, until my eyes open and I throw my hand violently at the snooze button. I lay there for a while, staring up at the blank ceiling. I wonder when my life will change, when this endless routine will cease and if anything exciting will ever happen to me.

I hear the boiling of the kettle downstairs, and I sigh. That's one of my all time favorite sounds in the morning, I've always wanted to live in the city though. So that I could pop into a luxorious smelling coffee shop before sixth form, but I live in the country side, and the nearest Costa's is twenty miles away.

I lay there for several minutes before forcing myself to roll out of bed. I am not a morning person. I lazily get dressed, not bothering to check if my clothes match or not. I do care about my appearance, but I don't make a huge deal out of it. I apply a bit of mascara and brush through my ginger hair before running downstairs to fill my thermal cup with coffee and grumble a greeting to my mum and siblings. Whilst I search for the milk, I overhear my younger sister is complaining to my brother.

"I don't want to go to school. It's boring!" Jasmine says.

"Yeah, well I have double French!" Jack joins in and I chuckle. They honestly have no idea how easy their lives are at the moment, I'd do anything to be their age. I find the milk next to Jasmine, who had just finished pouring it onto her cereal.

"Try being a seventeen year old girl doing her A-levels. Seriously though, its not a competition. Nobody wants to go to school Jaz, but we have to." I give her a quick kiss on her forehead before grabbing my knee length trench coat as I walk out the door. I do up the buttons as I walk, balancing the coffee with one hand. The bus stop is down a narrow path leading to the village memorial hall, and Baah at the sheep as I walk past them. They, as usual look up at me blankly before continuing to chew their grass. Once I reach the tiny bus shelter I place my coffee carefully onto the bench, which in reality is just a plank of wood on two stones, and plug my headphones into my phone. I hate public transport without music to cancel out the constant swearing and pointless babble of teenagers first thing in the morning. I'm aware that this sounds ignorant coming from a teenager herself, but I simply can't stand most humans. I notice the bus approaching and grab my coffee taking a sip before climb the steps into the country side coach.

I don't remove my headphones until I am sat in my form room, being registered. I dislike the way the tables are set out in this room, two large tables make me feel more isolated when I sit alone. I have three friends at college, and more outside school, so I don't consider myself antisocial. But this morning I sit on my own. My friends get their parents to drop them off late, as they hate form. I decide to get my notebook out, so at least it appears that I am busy with work, and it feels less awkward for me. Suddenly the head of year twelve, Miss Park, starts to speak. I listen, my eyes still focused on the piece of paper.

"Today we have a guest speaker in, for those of you that are interested in a career in law." Off course we have a speaker today, we always have somebody trying to persuade us to take different careers and jobs every week. I decide to go back to practicing my shorthand on my piece of paper as I have neither the grades nor the intention of going into law. I keep my ears peeled onto Miss Parks voice as she introduces the poor soul who is going to persuade a room full teenagers to become a lawyer or judge.

"This is the detective.." She begins. Detective? That's unusual. Places like Cumbria don't need detectives. I would never become one either, but my curiosity makes me glance upwards. A man stands at the front of the class, he's average looking. Slightly tall and he wears a trench coat like mine, only his is longer and he wears it with a knotted scarf. He has mysterious eyes, and his cheekbones are slick. He's attractive, but in a scary way. I was right, he definitely isn't from around here, I can tell by the way he's observing everybody, one by one. "...Consulting detective." He interrupts Miss Park. His voice is chilled and it makes me feel cold inside, yet its intriguing. It has a southern accent, which I would like to hear more off.

"I'm sorry?" Miss Park retorts.

"I am Sherlock Holmes. And I am a consulting detective."


End file.
